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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013294">Survivor: Avengers Edition</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/onward_came_the_meteors/pseuds/onward_came_the_meteors'>onward_came_the_meteors</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>October 2020 Prompts [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Desert Island, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, One Shot, POV Third Person, Post-Avengers (2012), Stranded, Team Dynamics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:14:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/onward_came_the_meteors/pseuds/onward_came_the_meteors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers are stuck on a desert island. Unfortunately, not all of them end up doing too well in the sun.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers &amp; Avengers Team</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>October 2020 Prompts [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Survivor: Avengers Edition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 14, for the prompt: "heat exhaustion"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clint was getting sick of sand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately for him, he was on a beach. A beach on what he and the other Avengers had determined to be an uninhabited tropical island (it hadn’t taken long to determine—the place was barely a fifteen-minute walk from end to end) after the quinjet had crashed there a couple days ago. And the one thing this island had in abundance—other than rocks, trees, and the blazing sun—was sand. Clinging to his shirt, lodged at the bottom of his quiver (he’d fished it out of the ocean yesterday to find that his arrows had been replaced with seawater and a couple of tiny hermit crabs), caught in his hair, and stuck underneath his fingernails.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That last part might’ve been because he’d been digging up half the beach for the better part of the afternoon, but knowing that didn’t make it less irritating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was sprawled in the shade of some overhanging trees with leaves wider than his face, his back up against a rock. Natasha was next to him, sifting through the sand around them with impressive intensity considering the heat that had been bearing down on them all day. They were trying to find any pieces of equipment that might have dropped from the quinjet during the crash, but so far all of their efforts had only produced a variety of oddly shaped rocks, some pointy sticks, and… yeah, and more sand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d have a better chance searching closer to the jet itself, but that was a possibility none of them were desperate enough to try—yet, anyway. Clint lifted his head and stared out at the glassy blue ocean that glittered at the end of the beach—all those rhythmic, foamy waves completely unconcerned with the sunken quinjet that lay however-the-hell many feet below its surface. Not for the first time, he cursed Tony for not making the thing waterproof.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Steve hadn’t liked that fact much either. As was evident from the several pointed remarks he kept making in Tony’s direction, most of them along the lines of “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought </span>
  </em>
  <span>this was supposed to be top-of-the-line technology—”, which was about when Tony had retorted with “Funnily enough, even top-of-the line technology’s gonna go down when the </span>
  <em>
    <span>main engines</span>
  </em>
  <span> are hit with a high-energy cruise missile, Rogers—”. That was around the time Bruce had interrupted with a “Hey, why don’t we check to see if anything survived the crash?” and pulled Tony down the beach before either he or Steve could respond.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Clint had asked Natasha why she didn’t seem as bothered, she’d just said “This thing was designed by Tony Stark. It’s impossible to keep it from exploding forever.” Which was fair).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could just picture the jet, bogged down in sand with loose seaweed floating in the open doors and dappled sunlight filtering in through the dark. Maybe some fish would appreciate the Iron Man suit—they could swim inside the helmet like it was one of those plastic skulls people put in aquariums. That had been one of the few things they couldn’t find, right after the crash (Clint had been holding his bow when the jet went down, some half-baked plan to get on the roof and see who was firing at them swirling around in his brain; Thor’s hammer had that weird magical boomerang power; and it was almost impossible to separate Steve from his shield), but most of what they had recovered had been completely waterlogged and/or smashed into teeny tiny pieces—a.k.a: functioningly useless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hence the two and a half days spent stranded on this island… two and a half days that would probably turn into several more until either S.H.I.E.L.D. finally got the hint that they were MIA or Pepper and Rhodey finally got suspicious enough of Tony not answering his phone—which, considering both of them had known Tony for years, would be after S.H.I.E.L.D. had already formed and executed a rescue plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Clint was trained for situations like this. Natasha, too—scheduled evacuations were almost never on their mission briefings, meaning both of them had spent their fair share hanging around whatever middle-of-nowhere weapons facility or government outpost or off-the-grid warehouse until it was safe to contact S.H.I.E.L.D. or they could make their way back on their own. At least here, nobody was injured or fleeing the scene of an assassination, and this island didn’t have anyone actively trying to kill them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although he might need to revise that last point if Stark and Rogers spent too much more time around each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All things considered, though, the team was handling the situation a lot better than Clint expected—especially when the situation involved no way to contact the outside world, half their belongings either lost or soaking wet, scorching days that turned into sticky nights where they all flopped down on the beach and tried not to touch each other in their sleep, and endless. Sand. Everywhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce actually seemed to like it here, for reasons that Clint could not possibly fathom; his reaction to the news that they were stranded had been little more than a thoughtful glance out to the horizon, a shrug, and then wading back into the water to pluck out his glasses. Thor wasn’t much different, although he had proven himself to possess a bizarre amount of survival skills (“Where the fuck did you get those fish?” “The ocean”) and his idea for getting rescued had involved summoning lightning, which had been immediately and unanimously vetoed by everyone who didn’t think death by electrocution was an acceptable percent error for an escape plan. Tony’s main focus had been fixing the jet—a lost cause—and then manipulating some of the surviving equipment to send out a signal with their location—a losing cause, although he wasn’t admitting it—and then annoying Steve, which was a lot more successful than the first two. Steve himself had already made several Captain-America-type declarations that their main goal was keeping themselves alive until they got rescued, which was a nice idea, but being Steve Rogers, he couldn’t help rising to Tony’s bait nine times out of ten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha’s voice interrupted his train of thought. “Are you gonna help? Or just sit there and look pretty?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There goes that plan.” Clint looked back down at the piles of sand and pulled out a small shape that turned out to be a shard of glass. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hmm. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He continued to dig carefully around the spot as Natasha watched him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re getting freckles,” she remarked. Clint glanced up in time to catch her grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Haven’t gotten those since I was a kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too much time lurking in dark alleys?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hazard of the profession.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shame.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint snorted. The hours in the sun were changing their hair, too: his lightening almost to blond and Natasha’s curling more than ever with the humidity. She’d pulled it back in a loose ponytail, but a few curls had still escaped and were hanging around her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a splashing sound to their left, and both Clint and Natasha turned so they were looking down at the shore, where three of the other Avengers were dragging in fallen logs from the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(The purpose of this was supposedly to make them some kind of shelter in case it rained before rescue showed up, but Clint had his suspicions that somebody had just been watching too much </span>
  <em>
    <span>Survivor</span>
  </em>
  <span>).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor arrived first, water dripping from his shoulders and hefting a couple logs with no apparent effort. He’d dumped all of his armor on the beach barely twenty minutes after they’d crashed, and was now wearing only a pair of shorts—and </span>
  <em>
    <span>how the hell did he get so tan in two and a half days?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enjoying the view?” Natasha muttered under her breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am looking respectfully.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint turned his gaze to the second figure, who was dragging a single log behind him and somehow managing the same amount of confidence as Thor did with his five. Tony kept glancing out at the ocean behind him, as though a plane would’ve appeared in the two seconds he’d been looking away. Somehow his hair wasn’t the complete salt-water-and-sand-soaked mess that the others’ were, and Clint had to stop digging for a second to wonder just how much gel was in there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This effectively distracted him for a few seconds, so that both Tony and Thor had deposited their logs on the growing pile by the rock by the time he finally thought to question why Steve was lagging so far behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And… there he was: the Captain of America himself. Steve was carrying about the same amount of logs as Thor, but he was moving distinctly slower, as though his feet were sinking into the sand. His skin was still pale, like the serum had made him immune to the sun, even though his hair was the blondest Clint had ever seen it; and he seemed to be breathing heavier than he should.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he watched, Steve tripped over something in the sand and stumbled, barely catching himself in time and almost losing his grip on the logs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint met Natasha’s eyes, and they didn’t even need to say anything before both of them were on their feet and heading across the beach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun hit him like a blast, and Clint realized just how much of a difference being in the shade made. His bare feet burned against the sand, and sweat beaded on the back of his neck as he and Natasha made their way over toward Steve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Cap. You good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve turned in the direction of Clint’s voice. Up close, he looked even paler, and he was squinting into the sun. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha stopped when she reached his shoulder and surveyed him. “How long have you been out here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um. I’m not sure?” Steve’s voice was definitely weaker than normal. He went to take a step forward—whether to bring the logs the rest of the way over to the pile or to move closer to the shade, Clint didn’t know—and suddenly his legs buckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both Clint and Natasha reached for him, but Steve managed to steady himself. He was swaying ever so slightly, and he kept blinking hard as though trying to solidify his surroundings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, time to take a break,” Clint decided. Natasha nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve mirrored her action almost unconsciously. “Good idea.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time he really did fall, landing on his knees in a spray of sand, the logs tumbling out of his grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Clint bent down and tugged at Steve’s arm, but the captain had his palms braced against the sand, his head down like he couldn’t muster the energy to hold it upright. “C’mon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint had a pretty decent set of skills after his years as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but moving half-conscious super soldiers who did not want to be moved was not one of them. He glanced at Natasha and jerked his head down the beach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha cupped her hands around her mouth. “Thor, could you get over here? Rogers needs to get out of the sun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her shout alerted both Thor and Tony, who were at their side in an instant, the logs forgotten. Bruce appeared on Steve’s other side; it probably hadn’t been hard to hear Natasha from where he’d been down the beach poking at their makeshift signal fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gang’s all here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Clint thought, but before he could say it aloud, Bruce was squeezing past him and kneeling down on the sand next to Steve. Steve didn’t move a muscle as Bruce carefully felt his pulse and forehead, further proving the point that he wasn’t himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s probably just heat exhaustion,” Bruce said, and both Natasha and Tony nodded as Thor tilted his head in the same way he had when Clint had showed up with a sprained wrist and a doctor’s note. “Couple hours out here will do that to you. We gotta get him in the shade.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what I said,” Natasha pointed out. Thor leaned down and offered his arm as support, which Steve stared at for a few seconds before letting himself be helped up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the team followed as Thor and Steve slowly made their way to the shady spot where Clint and Natasha had been digging through the sand. Thor laid Steve gently down in front of the large rock, where the branches overhead provided a decent shelter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve had begun shifting to move on his own as soon as Thor had started to lower him down, but once he was lying flat, he curled over on his side and went limp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shook his head. “Damn it, Steve. Only you could figure out a way to pick a fight with the sun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s head was almost entirely buried in his arms, but a muffled voice came out: “Someone had to liven things up around here.” The words were thready, though, and Bruce offered him a water bottle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, thanks.” Steve’s hand came up to press his forehead with a wince. Bruce stuck the water bottle in his face again, this time with a raised-eyebrow look that said “remember who you’re talking to,” and Steve obediently accepted it. He took a couple sips before leaning back and closing his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He should be fine,” Bruce said to the rest of them, standing up and brushing the sand from his pants. He was still wearing the pair he’d had after the mission that had landed them in this situation, but he’d apparently found one of Tony’s extra T-shirts on the quinjet and stolen it. His hair was curling almost as much as Natasha’s. “As long as he stays out of the sun for a little while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint couldn’t help himself. “Good thing we’re not stranded on a tropical island or anything.” Natasha elbowed him, as he added, “‘Cause that would make it really hard—</span>
  <em>
    <span>hey</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>working </span>
  </em>
  <span>on it,” Tony interjected. “Maybe if my suit wasn’t at the bottom of that—” he pointed to the ocean “—and if Point Break’s flying hammer didn’t have a maximum occupancy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shrugged. “It’s still open as an option—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, no. Maybe in a few weeks, when my dignity’s in absolute shreds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weeks?” Bruce repeated, smiling in spite of himself. Tony poked him in the shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, don’t even start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, if S.H.I.E.L.D. does show up to rescue us, I don’t think I’d blame them for turning right back around,” Natasha said under her breath, but clearly meant for them all to hear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint opened his mouth, but a quiet voice from below interrupted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys,” Steve mumbled. “Can you not do this where I’m trying to sleep?” His eyes were brushed shut and his hands had drifted away from his face and onto the sand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other five Avengers shared a guilty look before stepping back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes later, everyone had returned to their previous tasks, and if they noticed that these tasks now happened to take place just a little bit closer to where Steve was curled up in the shade, no one mentioned it. Thor had headed back off to the edge of the shore to collect more logs, but every time he returned back to the beach, he cast a casual glance to the outcropping of rock at Steve’s back. Tony was crouched in the sand with Natasha, both of them fiddling with what looked like a broken piece of communications equipment, both of their hands caked in sand as they whispered. Bruce was over by the signal fire again, feeding in more loose sticks, but every so often he would get up and nudge the water bottle a little closer to Steve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve himself looked to all the world like he was really asleep, but Clint wasn’t called Hawkeye for nothing—he’d seen that hint of a smile when he’d interrupted their argument. Apparently, the two things the super soldier serum couldn’t fix were heat exhaustion and being a little shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But after a few minutes, Steve’s breathing had begun to even out, and he relaxed with a barely audible sigh. His color was slightly better, and he wasn’t hunched into quite so tight a ball.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now we just have to keep anyone else from getting hurt until someone comes for us. Which might be… a tiny bit harder than it sounds.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint perched himself up on top of the rock and stared out at the ocean.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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